


A Chicago Cop or a Mountie

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-30
Updated: 2001-04-30
Packaged: 2018-11-10 23:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: The "Mystery of What Was In Thatcher's Mouth!"





	A Chicago Cop or a Mountie

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

A Chicago Cop or a Mountie

## A Chicago Cop or a Mountie

by Inspector Postcard

Author's Website: 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I just play with them. The Due South characters in this story are not mine and anything else Due South isn't mine either. I do not mean to infringe on copyrights held by any copyright holders for Due South. The story however is mine (copyright April 2001 by Postcard on all original story content.) Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading without the written consent of author. This story is not written for profit and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.

Author's Notes: This story is for Constable Gemma Louise Millar, my new friend and associate in DSRCMP, who wanted me to write another story and who asked the question "Is Thatcher smoking in the club in MSTB?" Well done for spotting it Constable Millar. =o) None of us involved in the mystery had ever really thought of Thatcher as a smoker! She doesn't seem the type! We pondered and wondered if it could be a breadstick, or maybe a straw! And so the "Mystery of What Was In Thatcher's Mouth" arose. =o) BTW, I have nothing against Tracy Jenkins, this is just a story, and I have wrote it from Thatcher's perspective, not mine. Please no otters or flame throwing. I actually like Tracy's singing. And as for the "illegal substance," no offence intended---Bizarre things happen in dreams! And I also don't encourage smoking. Ciggy's are bad for your health, remember children, and they don't half stink rotten!

Story Notes: NC-17   
Episode Related. Romance (kind of!) Humour. Slight Violence on Thatcher's behalf. And a mystery. =o)   
Fraser/Thatcher. Thatcher/Kowalski. Based around MSTB. Spoilers for ATQH, Asylum and MSTB.

* * *

A Chicago Cop Or a Mountie  
The Mystery of What Was in Thatcher's Mouth By Inspector Postcard   
postcard@manutd.com 

Sitting in the club listening to that blasted woman, Tracy Jenkins, singing, was the last place Thatcher wanted to be. The woman had got on Thatcher's nerves from the first moment she had arrived at the Canadian Consulate and caused grown men, Mounties nonetheless! to make blithering spectacles of themselves. From the word 'go' in Thatcher's jealous opinion, the woman was obviously making a beeline for Fraser's attentions, and to Thatcher's further annoyance, was succeeding with merit points! Look at her, Thatcher thought venomously to herself, the woman isn't even really pretty! I'm just as attractive as she is! Why is it that men seem to fall at her feet just because she's a country western star! I've been working on Fraser for over two years and in waltz' this...this jumped up little slut and turns him to putty in her hands. Furthermore, I don't know what they all see in her singing! I can sing just as well as she can! Thatcher brooded. 

Leaning back and placing her elbow on the circular table, Thatcher rested her head on her hand and tried to doze in the dimly lit club. Gradually the sound of Tracy Jenkins' voice faded into a dull lull in the background of Thatcher's mind. The smoke from numerous cigarettes floated to her nostrils, and Thatcher took a deep breath inhaling the tobacco smell. She was trying to quit and passive smoking was the only smoke that filled her lungs these days. Her nerves were continually on edge though. And it was pure torture to be in a room with smokers when one is going cold turkey! Maybe tonight, strictly as a one off, she'd allow herself a ciggy for being a good girl and sitting through this 'exhilarating' concert! Thatcher took another deep breath. Could she smell a joint! Surely not! Maybe this night was about to get interesting after all! She might actually see the Chicago PD make an arrest for once, instead of having Fraser and herself do their jobs for them! 

Her thoughts of them making an arrest started to subside, and her dreams started to form--- 

She started to dream of a life cigarette smoking without the side effects of tar filled lungs and a long agonising death. Her dreams shifted to members of the Chicago PD bursting through the club doors, guns at the ready. "This is a police bust! Everybody stay where you are!" Filled the air, cutting off Tracy's performance. Lt. Welsh's mouth gaped open. "What the hell's going on! I didn't know about this! Who authorised the bust? What sort of bust? Drugs! Weapons! What? I'm the only one around here with the authority to authorised a raid?" Lt. Welsh demanded, holding up his ID. 

"O'Neil's orders, sir," one of the cops spoke almost apologetically. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to frisk you too!" 

"Wh...t...f..." Welsh spluttered. "That damned woman Sherry O'Neil! One moment all smiles, the next an ice pick in your back, straight to your heart!" Realising that he'd spoken out loud, Welsh looked sheepish. 

Thatcher raised her eyebrows at Welsh. "Hey, Sherry happens to be one of my friends." 

"Why am I not surprised!" he muttered under his breath. 

Thatcher glanced towards the stage...her eyes went wide...instead of holding the microphone, Tracy was holding a joint. Tracy hiked her skirt up and retrieved a small bag, containing more of the illegal substance. Desperately, Tracy looked around for a way to get rid of it. Thatcher watched gleefully as two cops swiftly confiscated the evidence from Tracy and handcuffed her. 

"Excuse me, ma'am! I need to check your person too!" Nodding, Thatcher grudgingly handed over her handbag. She cringed as the Chicago cop emptied her personal possessions onto the table...a packet of strawberry hubba bubba chewing gum...three aniseed flavour condoms (jumbo size)...a tampon (wouldn't want to get caught out!)...a sticky sweet (that had been forgotten about for months)...her glasses...nail file...rouge lipstick...black eyeliner and mascara...mocha eyeshadow...blusher...cellphone...tissues (one used)...keys...spare nicotine patch...nicotine chewing gum...mints...money...a brush...a small bottle of sherry...two crystal glasses!...a clean pair of black lace knickers...a computer generated naked picture of Fraser...a candle stick! (this was getting bizarre!)...a white straw...breadstick...packet of cigarettes...lighter...a plant!!! (there's no way I could fit all of this into my little black handbag!)...a compass...a tuning fork...a first aid kit...(I'm a Mountie! You never know when you might need these things!)...a notebook...a pocket torch...a miniature sized Henri Cloutier (What are you doing in there?) 

At the side of Thatcher, another cop was rifling through Welsh's jacket pockets...a white handkerchief...keys...packet of sweets...pen...notebook...packet of tomato ketchup...mint flavour chewing gum...loose change...two zzzaney ribbed condoms...picture of Sherry O'Neil... 

To both Thatcher and Welsh's astonishment the police found some joints on them both. How!!! Shit!!! 

On the spare of the moment, Thatcher grabbed Welsh's arm and dragged him off to the stage. Welsh got the hint quickly and both started to sprint. Both knew they'd been framed. It must have been the waiter! For some bizarre reason, she just knew it was the waiter. They had to get away and do some detective work to clear their names. "Hey! Stop! Freeze or I'll shoot!" Thatcher and Welsh didn't stop, they ran faster...across the stage, using the instruments for cover to dodge the flying bullets...and dived backstage, where falling into a roll, they collided with Fraser and Ray Kowalski, knocking the two down like bowling pins and to Thatcher's astonishment---turning them into two red and white bowling pins. 

From out of nowhere a male voice shouted, "STRIKKKKKKKKKKKKKE!" Suddenly, Thatcher was being handed a cuddly pink teddy bear! 

Scrambling to their feet, Thatcher and Welsh whispered urgently to the bowling pins, "We've been framed!" "So have we!" the bowling pins whispered back in despair, before turning back into Fraser and Kowalski . For some reason, Thatcher handed her prize over to Fraser. "Thank you kindly!" More gunshots rang out again and the four of them sprinted off down the corridor. 

Bursting out of the fire escape, they stopped, teetering on the edge of a waterfall...Niagara Falls. "Jump!" Fraser yelled and, grabbing Thatcher's hand, his cuddly pink teddy bear took hold of Kowalski and Welsh's hands, Fraser jumped off the top of Niagara Falls, pulling his companions with him. 

Hitting the water, Thatcher stood in a puddle of mucky water, back in the alley way again. Thatcher instructed, "Split up! Meet at the consulate!" Splitting into two directions down the dark alley, Fraser and Welsh disappeared to the left, and Thatcher and Ray ran off to the right. 

Spying police cars at the top of the alley, Thatcher and Ray dodged into an adjoining alley. Running past tramps and jumping over trashcans, they both made their way together down the maze of dark and dirty alleys, hopefully in the direction of the consulate! "I thought I said 'split up'?" Thatcher yelled at Ray. "Ya did. But since when do I take orders from you!" Thatcher glared at him as she ran. "I didn't know you liked my company so much detective!" She shot back tartly. "I don't. I thought ya might need some help in findin yer way through these alleys to the consulate!" Thatcher thought that was sweet of him, but was not about to let him know. "I don't need anyone's help! Least of all yours!" Panting, she stopped running and so did he. They'd been running for what seemed like hours, but looking at her luminous watch, it was actually half an hour. Looking around, she tried to get her bearings. Where the hell am I? There was no landmark, nothing she recognised, just tall decrepit brick alleyways. "Oh, stop bein such a control freak and admit it, yer lost!" "I am NOT lost. I am NEVER lost." 

A large shape danced across the wall. It looked inhuman. A monster from a darker world. A creature of the night. It's huge shadow loomed black, menacing, as if ready to pounce. Ray saw it too. The pair of them, acting like scared kids, backed away and stumbling, ended up running up the steps of a fire escape. They jumped and grabbed one another as from out of the shadows jumped the huge monster...a stray cat. It hissed at them and leapt away. 

They both let out a sigh of relief. Hastily letting go of one another, they realised where they were...right back in the same alley, on the same fire escape. They'd gone around in circles. In despair they stared up at the name of the club over the fire escape. Both released their pent up frustration at the same time, "Shit!!!" 

"Where's the police?" Thatcher asked. 

Ray shrugged. "Dunno!" 

"God, I could do with a cigarette right now!" 

"I didn't know ya smoked!" 

"I don't smoke. I quit. There's a lot you don't know about me detective because you've never taken the time! You just prefer to slag me off instead." 

"Oh, and I don't have good reason too! You never gave me a chance either! It's not all my fault. You can be as cold as this freezing fucking night! Well, at least I know why yer continually in a bad mood! Coz yer trying to quit smoking! Do us all a favour and smoke again! When yer lungs give up and yer kick the bucket, we'll all be better off!" 

Thatcher slapped him across the face---hard. "Ouch! You bitch!" 

"You deserved it!" She slapped him again. 

"What'ya do dat fer? Are yer nuts!" 

"I slapped you again because it's all your fault we're back here, in the same place as we started. I thought you knew this area, you imbecile! If Fraser had been here with me instead of you, I'd be in the nice warm, safe consulate now!" 

"Oh, here we go! Fraser again! What is it with women and Fraser! He can't do anything wrong in any woman's eyes, can he! Even in yours. He's a fucking saint! Don't ya think I try! Don't ya think I wanna woman! I can be a good guy too, given half a chance. But no, they all only want Fraser. You only want Fraser." He hung his head. 

Thatcher stood there, stunned at his outburst. "Wh-w-what are you trying to say?" 

"I want you," he spoke softly and looked up at her meekly. "I've liked yer since the first day I saw ya. But I know I don't stand a chance, coz I'm not good enough for yer." 

Thatcher bit her lip. What a weird night! I never knew this spiky haired detective, Ray Kowalski, had fallen for my charms! What charms! All as I've ever done is shouted at him and slapped him! 

Before Thatcher knew what was happening, she was in Ray's arms, kissing the life out of him. Her fingers tugged at his spiky hair. Her body hungrily pushed against his, and his against hers. She felt him lower her down onto the top step of the fire escape. He was getting hard; she could feel him pushing it against her. She raised her left thigh and he took hold of her leg, gripping it hard. His other hand was running all over her body...touching and squeezing her breasts, her right leg. While her hands squeezed his tight small backside, his moved to undo her trousers...slipping one hand inside her panties, his fingers got to work. She moaned in delight. 

He was hard now...very hard. Pulling back slightly he undid his own trousers and fished out a condom from his wallet. In a daze, Thatcher realised they were actually going to have sex. She yanked his trousers and black boxer shorts down in one go. Looking at his nakedness...his hard white length...Thatcher wanted to do something else before they 'due it'...she had the urge to take him into her mouth. Taking the white condom from him, her hands fumbled with the condom until she managed to roll it onto his hard penis. Pushing him up into a standing position, she knelt in front of him. Thatcher gripped his buttocks hard, to hold him in place, and took him into her mouth. 

Part way through giving him a blow-job, he managed to prise her hands off his bum and pull away. Thatcher heard herself saying, "Fifty dollars please!" Gently, he pushed her back into their former lying position on the top step. Smiling in anticipation, she rubbed his little white bum. His own hands gripped the material of her grey suit trousers and pulled them down around her ankles. Spreading her legs, he settled in between her long exposed thighs. Thatcher gasped as he tore her knickers from obstructing his entry, and she jumped slightly as her naked bum touched the cold metal step. Noticing, Ray moved his hands underneath her bum and groaning, he entered her warmth. 

Moving her body with his, Thatcher held onto his white backside, pulling and gripping him to her in time with the thrusts. Oh, this felt good! She hadn't had sex in over a year. Boy, was she horny! She was pleasantly amazed at how tender he was with her. She never imagined he would be. He always portrayed himself to her and the world as a 'tough guy.' As if he heard her thoughts, he planted kisses in her hair and down her cheek and neck. Smiling, she reached for his face and drew it up to catch a kiss on the lips. 

While they kissed, hungrily exploring each other's mouths, his thrusts became more rapid. Almost urgent. Nearing her climax, Thatcher let out a loud "Ummmmmmmmmmm." Pulling back slightly to look at her beautiful flushed face, he grinned. The phone conversation! He was remembering the time she had groaned over the phone to him, last year when she was being massaged. How embarrassing that had been! He had teased her about it afterwards...she had pretended she didn't know what he meant! Thatcher was determined to get her own back Smiling to herself, she nibbled on his ear, at the same time moving her thighs a little, so that he went deeper. Those actions elicited the response she was looking for...a loud growl of a groan from him. 

All thoughts escaped her head as her jaw popping orgasm washed over her. Ray thrust once more bringing him to his peak. It was obvious to Thatcher that his climax was awesome as he clutched her bum and yelled, "YIKESSSSSSSSSSSSS! Uhh, baby, yes!" 

They lay still for some minutes, catching their breath. The heat of the moment passed and Thatcher's brain started to function as normal. Realising the situation she was in, she pushed Kowalski off her and started to put what was left of her clothes back on. "W-w...I mean...!" Kowalski stuttered. He moved towards her to try to embrace her. She slipped past him, down the steps. Fastening his pants, Kowalski ran after her, discarding the condom into a nearby trashcan. 

Suddenly, she was in a raft on some river rapids, paddling as fast as she could to get away from him. She had to get away from him! Thatcher looked back to see if he was anywhere near. What the...!!! Hurtling through the water towards her was a dolphin, and Kowalski was holding onto its fin!!! It was Flipper. Hearing the loud rush of a waterfall, she turned her head back to the front of the raft. 

"What's wrong? Wait Ins...erm Tha...honey wait!" Kowalski called over the noise of rushing water. Hearing him call her 'honey' she stopped and spun around to find herself standing back in the alley. He caught up to her. Timidly reaching out to her, he placed his hands on the tops of her arms. "I...erm...please don't run off. That, what we just...er...it meant something to me. It meant a lot." 

"It did?" 

He smiled a cute boyish smile. "Yeah. Er---what about you?" 

"It's taken me by surprise. I don't know what I think!" 

He looked down at his feet. "Okay. I understand. It took me pretty much by surprise too. Just---let me know if ya wanna---go out sometime! I'd like to, well, to get to know you better! If you want!" 

She smiled. "I'll let you know. Come one," she linked his arm. "Let's get outta here!" 

They walked back to the consulate in silence. Welsh and Fraser were waiting for them inside. "What took you so long?" Welsh asked. 

"Nothing!" Ray and Thatcher blurted out instantly. 

The vision shifted... 

Thatcher was stood back in the same alley. Only this time she wasn't with Kowalski, but with Fraser. Another shadow loomed upon the wall. This time larger than the last. It snarled, showing fangs. Thatcher inhaled her breath sharply. Taking hold of Fraser's arm, she dragged him up the steps of the fire escape. She stumbled on the top step and Fraser caught her in his strong arms. "It's all right. There's no need to be scared. It's the trick of the dark. The shadow belongs to that dog. See!" He pointed and she followed the direction of his arm. A scruffy stray dog was there. It barked and ran off. She laughed in relief. 

Looking up into his eyes she leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was mind blowing. She was back on top of the train, in his arms. The cold wind rushing through her hair. And then before she knew it, she was being lowered...only this time...into the hay in the horse box of the train. The same scene played out again, only this time with Fraser. Firstly she took him into her mouth and then secondly, she took him into her womanly core. To her delight he made passionate, but tender love to her, like she'd always wanted him to do. But instead of calling out what Kowalski had, Fraser yelled, "Megggggggggg! Ohhhhh, Meg, Meg, I love you!" 

After making love, they stayed in one another's embrace for some minutes, until their breath came back to normal. As with last time, the heat of the moment passed and Thatcher's brain started to function as normal. Realising the situation she was in with her subordinate, she pushed Fraser off her. Brushing off the hay, she started to put what was left of her clothes back on. "Meg? W-what's wrong?" Fraser asked desperately. He moved towards her to try to embrace her. Back in the alley again, she slipped past him, down the steps. Fastening his pants, it was Fraser's turn to run after her, discarding the condom into the same nearby trashcan. 

Like the click of her fingers, Thatcher found herself in a performance of the Musical Ride. However, their was only Fraser and herself taking part. In full red serge uniform, he was charging towards her on his black horse. Thatcher was riding away from him, faster than she'd ever ridden in her life. She had to get away from him. She felt too strongly for him. It was scary. She'd never felt like this before. She couldn't let herself feel this strongly for a man. She could get hurt! She had to bolt. 

"Meg, my love, wait! Please, sweetheart, wait!" Fraser called out to her. 

Thatcher stopped the horse and spun around to look at him. They were back in the dirty dimly lit alley. He caught up to her. Timidly reaching out to her, he placed his hands on the tops of her arms. "Why did you run off? Have I done something wrong? Tell me please! All I want to do is make you happy. I love you, Meg." 

"You do?" 

He smiled, showing his cute dimples. "Yes." He tilted his head to one side. "How...how do you feel about me?" 

She smiled. "I feel the same." They kissed, holding onto one another tightly. "Come one," she linked his arm. "Let's get outta here!" 

In silence they walked arm in arm to the consulate. Kowalski and Welsh were waiting for them inside. "What took you so long?" Kowalski asked. 

"Nothing!" Fraser and Thatcher blurted out instantly, and smiled at each other. 

The vision shifted... 

For the third time Thatcher found herself back in the same dark, cold alley. Her companion had changed yet again---this time to Welsh. The biggest shadow of all rose before them on the brick wall. I'm not going to run this time. I'm going to face it. Squaring up to the shadow, Thatcher stood her ground as it grew larger and larger. For some reason she knew whom the shadow belonged to. Finally, the owner of the shadow crept out into view. The waiter! "You bastard!" Thatcher yelled at him. "Why did you frame us?" 

"I...I'm s-s-sorry. I was tipped off about the raid and needed to get rid of the stuff." 

Thatcher stepped forward and kneed him in the balls. "Oomph!" He dropped to the floor, holding his groin. 

"That'll teach you to frame me!" Grabbing hold of him by the ear, she pulled him to his feet and put him into an arm lock. Pushing him infront of her, she marched him up the fire escape and banged on the door. A bouncer opened the door and Thatcher thrust the prisoner into his arms. "He's the culprit. He's your drug dealer. Take him to the police!" Thatcher ordered. 

"Who are you lady?" The broad shouldered black bouncer asked. Welsh flashed his ID. "Oh! I'll take him right away." 

"Just one moment, have you got a cigarette?" Thatcher asked the bouncer. 

"Nah, sorry." Turning to the prisoner and saying, "Come on you scumbag!" he pushed him towards the stage and the waiting police. 

The door slammed shut before Thatcher and Welsh. "Great! Just fucking great!" Thatcher complained. 

Thatcher turned around to face Welsh, who was stood behind her. "Well done Inspector! You caught our man!" 

"Thank you." Thatcher smiled triumphantly at him. 

"You really are a remarkable woman!" he complimented her. Their eyes locked. He leaned forward to kiss her. Oh no! Not this time! Their lips started to meet... 

Thatcher jumped awake. Welsh had nudged her. She was back in the club and to her dismay Tracy Jenkins was still on stage. Thatcher looked on the bright side---at least she wasn't going to 'due it' with Welsh! Phew! 

Welsh was speaking to her. Something about the concert being good. Yeah, right! she thought. Now, Meg, put on a fake smile and act like it's fantastic. Sitting up, she lied, "Exhilarating!" 

She needed a ciggy to help her get through the rest of this. I know, I know, I shouldn't. But after the dream I've just had! Come on, have a little heart! Just one fag, I promise! I know it's bad for me, and I don't wanna die a horrible death. I'll quit tomorrow. I will. 

Tracy Jenkins finally finished her song. People sprang up to applaud. Thatcher stood up with the others, a cigarette in her mouth. The last cigarette she ever smoked. If my dream had been real life, whom would I have chosen? What would I have put into my mouth? The Chicago Cop, or the Mountie? 

* * *

End


End file.
